


One in a Thousand Millions

by little_jamie_bean



Series: Magic, superpowers, and an overcomplicated universe [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gen, Hungry Ghost Festival, Jisung keeps people in the dark, Lots of people die but they get resurrected, Mentions of the dead, NCT's house is just a chaotic homeless shelter, Secrets, Street kids AU, Unstable powers, Weird writing Style, haha sorry NCT just has too many people, im trying new things sry if u dont like it, just assume the rest are there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28872474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_jamie_bean/pseuds/little_jamie_bean
Summary: Jisung was an ordinary kid. Just an ordinary kid.Well, maybe not so ordinary.He was homeless, for one. Many people were homeless in that city, so that wasn’t too special.He has no parents, for two. He doesn’t remember any parental figure in his life, so that’s unique.He lives on the corner of sixth street. That is very unique, because he was the only homeless person on the corner of sixth street, which made it unique to him.People were scared of him for no reason. That one was very unique. Why did people avoid him? He looked like an ordinary kid. So why did people have an instinct to run away from him?He had an uncanny tendency to encounter dead things. From things as mundane as dead plants, to uncommon sights like a whole group of dead people. That could just be labelled as bad luck.So Jisung has all these unique traits.We all have our unique traits. Maybe it was that we had a million dollars. Maybe it could be a different color eye. It could be a wild imagination, a talent for art, a cleft lip, even. Even having arms can be considered unique, because not everything has them. We’re all unique.This boy is just exceptionally unique.
Series: Magic, superpowers, and an overcomplicated universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117352
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	One in a Thousand Millions

Jisung was an ordinary kid. Just an ordinary kid. 

Well, maybe not so ordinary. 

He was homeless, for one. Many people were homeless in that city, so that wasn’t too special. 

He has no parents, for two. He doesn’t remember any parental figure in his life, so that’s unique. 

He lives on the corner of sixth street. That is very unique, because he was the only homeless person on the corner of sixth street, which made it unique to him.

People were scared of him for no reason. That one was very unique. Why did people avoid him? He looked like an ordinary kid. So why did people have an instinct to run away from him? 

He had an uncanny tendency to encounter dead things. From things as mundane as dead plants, to uncommon sights like  _ a whole group of dead people _ . That could just be labelled as bad luck. 

So Jisung has all these unique traits. 

We all have our unique traits. Maybe it was that we had a million dollars. Maybe it could be a different color eye. It could be a wild imagination, a talent for art, a cleft lip, even. Even having arms can be considered unique, because not everything has them. We’re all unique. 

This boy is just  _ exceptionally  _ unique. 

  
  


***

Scene One,

Just A Unique Child

***

  
  


Jisung didn’t have to go to school, as he could not pay the school fees. 

He already knew the essentials. Speaking. He picked it up from everyone he passed by. 

Everyone in his life is someone who just passes by. Everyone is. You and me, we’re just passing each other by in this fan fiction. 

Anyway, Jisung just had to fight for his life once again. Get some sustenance and fight off the trauma that came with passing dead bodies. Not like it really affects him any more, he’s seven years old now and has seen more bodies that your average person has and will see in their life. 

A little old lady comes out of her door and puts out some sacrificial food for the hungry ghosts. 

It would just get eaten by the pigeons anyway, the ghosts can’t consume the food given to them. So, Jisung takes to it first. After all, superiors get the food first, and humans are deemed the top of the animal kingdom. 

The little old lady leaves and Jisung hurries over to the plate of food, simple steamed buns, a mandarin orange and some candy. 

Jisung whispers a quick apology prayer to whatever the food was meant for, likely the hungry ghosts. It was that season anyway. 

Jisung has seen a lot of people do this in these months. Put out a plate of food for the ‘hungry ghosts’. The ghosts never come out to eat. The pigeons take to it instead. 

The pigeons have a lot to eat. They can thrive without even needing the special hungry ghost food, so Jisung takes one of the steamed buns and bites into it, some unknown (maybe red bean?) paste inside. It’s warm and filling. 

Even though Jisung hadn’t eaten in four days, he made sure not to stuff himself and eat too quickly. He would just get sick, and that is not a good thing when one is homeless. It is not a good thing even for someone with a home.

He pockets the candy, taking another bite of the steamed bun. This is not pigeon food. Pigeons like dry, crumby things like bread, or grainy things like rice. It is easier to eat with those pecky beaks of theirs. A pigeon eating this will just make a gross bean mess, so Jisung decides to eat the other bun as well. He will leave one of the cake-like things for the pigeons. 

There were also sticks with a chunk of wax on the top. The old lady had set fire to it, along with some incense sticks. 

Nobody disturbed him as he quietly ate the two buns. He took the orange for a later snack. 

He whispered another quick ‘sorry’ to the hungry ghosts. They could feast on some other extravagant platter of a meal left out by another person devoted to feeding the hungry ghosts. 

Jisung then wandered the streets, looking for something to spend an afternoon with. All he needed was something that wasn’t scared of him. They were mostly emotionless insects that don’t feel scared. 

Last afternoon he was with a beetle. Shiny, round and blackish-green, it was nice company as it was entertaining to watch it crawl, then duck. Crawl, then duck. Spin in circles, then crawl again. Insects were fascinating to watch, while others were just confusing. Like the humans staring down at that tiny little flat box they call a phone, tripping over the lace of their shoe for the sixth time in a row and neglecting it once more, unwilling to bend town and tie it, just waiting to trip once more. There is no understanding them. 

Indeed, it was amusing to watch them fail at being human. It was a wonder that these dorks were at the top of the animal kingdom. However animals were a different kind of company, being that humans could communicate with him if they chose to, but they did not, which made Jisung upset. Animals have no choice but not to communicate, as there is no point in doing so. Both parties are unable to understand each other. 

***

Scene One Point Five

Two Unique Children

***

  
  


As he searched the streets, he found another little boy just like him. Uniquely himself. Afraid for his life, shivering and cold. He must not be used to this life yet. It was all Jisung ever knew, so of course he was familiar with it. 

Jisung always lent a helping hand to any creature in need. However, he had never helped a human before, for their tendency to avoid him. 

He got closer to the boy, waiting for him to shy away and shrink into the shadows, away from him. 

This did not happen. The other boy, being as skinny and as unhealthy as Jisung was, was desperate for another human. Another human like him. He did not shy away from Jisung, and simply looked up at him with his cold chocolate colored eyes. Cold, not as in a glare. Cold, as in his soul seemed to be frozen inside out, not an ounce of warmth left in his gaze.

The boy said something. Jisung wasn’t sure what it was, but it was definitely a word. In fact, some words. 

“你有钱吗？”

Jisung wasn’t sure what it meant, or what language it was in. All he knew was that it wasn’t the language he spoke. 

Tilting his head, Jisung responded to the boy’s question with another question. ‘What did you say?’ 

“哦。。。 钱。money.” The boy said shyly. He was unsure if that word was the correct word. He also knew that Jisung likely didn’t have any, and if he did, he wouldn’t share. 

Jisung made a mental note. That noise, that odd nugget of a word that came out of the little boy’s mouth, meant money. It meant money in his language. If he could figure out what language it was, he could likely learn it. A stolen book from the library was all it needed. 

‘I don’t have any money. Sorry.’ Jisung responded, staring down at the shivering boy on the cold concrete. Something came off him which made Jisung feel a sort of pity. 

The boy looked up at Jisung, taking a moment to comprehend what Jisung just said. “食物？food?”

Jisung stares at the boy for a second. Those two nuggets of word meant food, presumably. That gave him a second clue on what this language is. If he had more word nuggets, he might be able to figure out what language that is, and he could learn it. Then he can communicate better with this unknown boy. 

Jisung silently took out the orange and one of the candies, passing them over and sitting down next to the boy, who gratefully peeled open the orange and ate a slice. 

“谢谢。thank you.” 

Yes! The two nuggets Jisung needed. That was the dreaded language Chinese, the language with uncountable characters and many characters that mean the same thing. A confusing language, but apparently many people use it. Jisung knew a couple word nuggets from there. 

“名字?” Jisung said, struggling with the tones, hoping to say the word properly in front of what seemed to be a native speaker. 

“你知道华文？”

Jisung wasn’t sure what that meant. Sure, he knows a few characters, but he certainly didn’t know  _ that.  _ He knew Chinese in Chinese is “华文”, just like how Korean in Korean is 한국어.

Jisung made a wild guess that it was an exclamation that he could understand Chinese. He knew how to say ‘not’ and ‘good’, so he said what he hoped to be ‘not good’. 

“不好。”

“哦。okay.” The boy said, seeming to be a little disappointed. Jisung was too. He had found a person willing to communicate, but could not communicate. How unfortunate. 

“我的名字是辰乐。”

His name. Written in Roman characters, that would be ‘Chen Le’. With 汉语拼音, Chinese tones, it would be ‘Chén Lè’. 

Chenle. That was the name of Jisung’s new friend. Chenle. He liked the sound of that name. It made him want to repeat it over and over again, until he could say it without a stumble on the tones. Jisung wasn’t used to tones, growing up. Heck, he wasn’t even used to speaking. Other than short, practiced prayers to whatever food left out was meant for, he never uttered a word. His life didn’t require it.

“我的名字是Jisung,” Jisung said, copying what Chenle said. Hoping it was what he thought it meant, which was ‘My name is Jisung’. 

‘Jisung.’ Chenle repeated, looking at Jisung hoping that he got the pronunciation correct. Indeed he did. It might take a dozen times for Jisung to get the name Chenle correct, it took Chenle just one try to get Jisung’s name right. One thing that was unique to him. Getting a new friend’s name right first try. 

“谢谢，Jisung.” Chenle said, smiling, giving him one piece of the mandarin orange. A ‘thank you’ offering. Just like how some religions practice giving offerings of food to thank their gods for looking after them, except Jisung was no god. However, he was ‘taking care’ of Chenle by giving him food. 

Jisung quietly accepted the slice of orange. He loved oranges. The little tang of flavour, the sweet juice as well. He had grown a fond taste for them as many people offer those for the hungry ghosts. The pigeons have a hard time opening their skins, so they are often left behind. 

He had asked a lady about hungry ghosts before. What they are. What they do. 

She told him that they were ghosts let out of hell for a while. They were hungry as they didn’t eat in hell. The hungry ghosts will wander in search of food and entertainment. People leave the food out for the ghosts and leave the front row at events free for the ghosts to enjoy the show. Hungry ghosts are different things in different religions. In some, they are the ghosts of ancestors that have been neglected by their children and generations below. In others, they are people who committed mild acts of evil. They get punished in hell, but get a month’s free time each year. Odd, because Jisung notices that people still leave hungry ghost food out after the end of 31 days since they started. 

The main festival is held on the 15th of the 7th lunar month. That is when the most food is offered. There is so much that the ghosts surely could not finish it all, even if they  _ could  _ eat it. So Jisung takes some food. People are generous on this day, they leave out multiple full meals. Jisung eats two meals on that special day. He doesn’t want to steal too much food from the ghosts, just in case they actually can eat it and possess the bodies of pigeons to eat it. Jisung is not a rude boy. He respects the dead. 

Chenle sits by his side. Although they cannot communicate, his company is enough. He has stopped shivering, as Jisung shared what little body heat he had with him. Although watching a beetle or a butterfly may be more entertaining, the warmth of another human was something new and interesting. Chenle was so young and so afraid, Jisung was scared they would come across a dead body. Chenle did not need to see that. He was too young, too fragile for that sight. Although Chenle did seem to be a slight bit older, maybe a couple of months, he certainly hasn’t seen all the horrors Jisung had seen. He has certainly felt the company of another human being. He has certainly had somebody to talk to. He must be more attached to the human race. Jisung has never been close to a human before this, so he does not know this connection. It still made him upset to see the body of his own species. He will not understand what Chenle will feel, but he knows that it would be worse for him. 

He doesn’t know  _ why  _ they all come to him. It’s as if they think he can save them. It’s so odd. What can Jisung do? He’s just a human. An ordinarily unique seven-year-old child. 

Chenle falls asleep after an hour. His head droops. Jisung caught him before he flipped over or stretched his spine too much that it hurt. He rested Chenle’s head against his shoulder instead, and Chenle automatically curled sideways. 

Chenle was warm, and Jisung was not. Chenle gave Jisung his warmth, which was not something he was used to. He was used to the cold. Jisung was grateful that this boy chose to stay by his side. Being warm felt good. 

A crow landed on the lamppost across the deserted street. It stared at Jisung with its beady black eyes. It flapped its wings, not taking off. Is it showing off its precious gift of flight? Is it trying to attract his attention? Jisung will never know. Crows cannot communicate with human beings and that much is known. It threw its head up to the sky, where rain clouds were gathering. Jisung got the message, it was going to rain soon. He could tell that by himself. He and Chenle had nowhere sheltered to go, as no adult human with a home to live in would let in two stranger kids, especially if one of them was Jisung. Jisung was well known and feared around here, mainly because of pure human instinct. Perhaps it was a bad vibe, or the death that happens around him. No human wanted to be caught near him, as it being merely in a five foot radius of him would give them a deadly cardiac arrest, leading to their untimely death due to a little boy with bad luck. 

  
  


***

Scene Two, 

A Sick Teenager

***

  
  


It has been six years and Jisung is now 13. Chenle recently turned fourteen. They were both scrawny, skinny, and utterly incapable of modern human life. 

They had moved from Sixth Street in the northern district to a slum in the East District. In fact, it was not the worst of the slums in the city. They resided in a miniscule hut in the absolute corner, rather near to the southern side and the three homeless districts. 

The middle homeless district was the most enjoyable place of the area. In the summertime, everyone was surprisingly happy. There was a high concentration of powered people in this district out of the three and they did not hesitate to assist some of the more needy. The older people were both able and allowed to work part-time jobs helped support the others. The residents would occasionally cross the river border to gather ingredients from the vast countryside prairie beyond the city, sometimes hunting, bringing food back to the community. The residents would cook it over the everlasting campfire that one of the powered people had made, and the food that came out tasted so  _ good.  _ The residents didn’t mind sharing with Chenle and Jisung. They had volunteered to help out, but they refused, saying that they were too young and fragile. They could stay back and help prepare the food. 

It was a happy life, but they craved a little  _ more.  _

Most important was healthcare. 

They had little to no healthcare systems in the slums. 

Chenle was getting sick. 

They needed it. 

Whatever Chenle had seemed to be more of a condition than a disease. He has had it for quite a while and it hasn’t spread to Jisung. 

It was extremely concerning. Chenle could hardly function properly at this point. He kept passing out, felt lightheaded all hours of his consciousness, felt weak all the time, and would get terrible headaches. 

Sometimes, Jisung would walk into their single roomed home, and Chenle would be laying down, motionless, on the ground. He likely just passed out again. Still, Jisung would panic, reminded of the dead bodies. Thinking that his bad luck hurt Chenle. The first person to befriend him. 

He would run to Chenle, checking his oddly irregular pulse, and carrying him to the bed when he confirmed that Chenle was alive. Maybe not well, but alive, and that was what mattered. 

Chenle took longer and longer each day to wake up from his unconscious spells. 

They were travelling across the city, hospital to hospital, clinic to clinic. No hospital offered them treatment as they had no money, none at all. It was surprising how stingy so many humans were.

They went for their last shot, Jisung carrying Chenle the last length. A rural hospital, a minor one. It was near the mountains, the suburbia. This was their last chance. If they were turned out of this one, Chenle would never get treatment. They had travelled all across the city for this. 

They took a break for the night in a park, leaning against a fence. Chenle was out cold again. They needed to get to the hospital quickly, but travelling in the dark was dangerous. 

Jisung arranged them in a way to maximise heat retention. They must keep warm for the night. Chenle could not afford hypothermia in his condition. 

Jisung awoke the next morning, exceptionally early. The pinks and golds of the sunrise were still visible. 

He noticed that one of them had rolled away last night. Chenle was lying a few feet away. Concerned, Jisung went to check on him. 

He was cold. So cold. And pale. 

Panic. Again. 

Chenle was dead. 

He didn’t make it to their last shot, the last hospital on the list. 

Jisung pressed two fingers to Chenle’s neck, just in case he still had a fighting chance. 

Once his hand lingered, he felt the most pain he had ever felt in his life. It was similar to an electric shock; a sharp jolt of pain running from the tips of his fingers up to his head, coursing back down and circling around his body. 

He let go with a yelp. The pain lingered. 

It felt like his brain was being ripped in half. 

Jisung scrambled away from Chenle’s body. 

No other dead body caused that sort of reaction _._ Was he still alive? Jisung didn’t believe so, Chenle’s corpse was freezing to the touch, a regular human being wouldn’t be able to survive an outrageously cold body temperature similar to that. 

Jisung aggressively pressed hard into his temples, shaking violently. He unknowingly fell onto his side, curling up and convulsing as if he was having a seizure. 

Losing consciousness, Jisung vaguely remembered his vision fading, swimming from vibrant, saturated color to monotonous black and white, to just black, to simply white, to nothing at all. A scared, timid little face peering down at him. He then fell unconscious, body finally settling, the convulsions stopping. 

***

Scene Two Point Five

Back to Two

***

Jisung was out cold for hours afterwards. 

Chenle, in fact, was dead, however here he was, sleeping peacefully next to Jisung, as if he was completely oblivious to the fact that he recently died and came back to life. 

Chenle woke first, not seeming to notice the lack of dizziness as he rolled away from Jisung and stood up. He then realised how strong he felt. Unlike before, how absolutely terribly weak he felt, he now felt normal. 

He darted towards Jisung to tell him the news, before he realised. 

Jisung always woke up at the crack of dawn.

It was currently approaching noon. 

Chenle took a few steps towards the area in which Jisung lay, cautiously crouching down and gently shaking Jisung’s shoulder. 

‘yah… 起来’ (wake up//informal)

‘Jisung?’ Chenle asked, now worried. Jisung was a light sleeper. He always woke up with just a light shake. A couple words at that pitifully quiet volume and a mild shake should be much more than enough. 

‘Jisung, can you hear me? 听到我吗?’ Chenle asked, translating into Chinese, for greater understanding. 

Jisung still did not stir. 

Chenle tried to find a reason for why his best friend was currently unconscious in the grass, only to get a splitting headache, suddenly completely unaware of anything that happened in the past few days. 

Then something deep down told him that Jisung is alright, Jisung will be fine. Jisung is just getting some well-deserved deep sleep and he will most definitely be alright in a couple hours. Chenle relaxed, unwillingly listening to his gut feeling. 

Indeed Jisung was fine. 

He was just knocked out. He will be perfectly fine in a few hours, as Chenle’s gut feeling told him. 

Chenle did not know what to do while waiting for Jisung to wake up, so he walked around the park, always coming back to him for a minute to check up on him. 

When he got tired, he lay down next to Jisung, breathing heavily and closing his eyes to rest. He did not fall asleep. He had slept for an uncountable amount of hours in the past few days, he did not want to sleep any more. 

Three hours later, somebody came by. Chenle knew it was odd that nobody was passing by, but if he were to expect anyone to pass by, he would definitely have not expected this man. 

Was he even a man? 

His hair had different sections of color, white, red, and black. It didn’t look dyed at all, but anything’s possible, Chenle thinks. 

The weirdest feature of this man was that he just  _ flew.  _

Chenle thought  _ wow, cool _ when what he thought was an endangered species of crane soared in, swooping in a broad circle before landing. Following that, he believed he had lost his mind as that crane turned into a  _ person.  _

The man turned, briefly making eye contact with Chenle, before turning his gaze to Jisung, who was surprisingly  _ still  _ unconscious. 

Chenle just stared. Where did this man come from? Who is he? Why is he here? What does he want from them? When did he notice them? How can he turn into a  _ crane _ ? 

He started walking towards them, and Chenle protectively pulled Jisung closer to him. 

Chenle sucked in a deep breath, attempting to gain the courage to speak to this odd bird-man. ‘Who are you?’ 

The man smiled, locking eye contact with Chenle. ‘My name is Yuta.’ 

Whoever he was, Chenle did not trust him yet. The name was not familiar. 

‘Why are you here? Are you looking for us? ‘Cause if not, then back off.’ 

Yuta stared for a long time, eyeing their dirty old clothes, also how they were currently huddled in the grass next to the concrete pavement. 

The lengthened staring made Chenle uncomfortable. ‘Why are you staring?’ 

‘Are you two homeless?’ He asked bluntly. 

‘Why’re you asking?’ Chenle said, getting slightly defensive. 

‘I want to help you guys.’ Yuta asked. 

Chenle wanted to bite out that he did not need any help, but that would be a lie. They were starving and thirsty; Jisung was dead to the world and they were both, indeed, homeless. They would like a nice shelter to stay under. 

How would Chenle know that this bird-man-thing was not trying to kidnap him, and just genuinely wanted to help? 

So what Chenle did was ask, ‘How will you help us?’ 

‘I can offer you two a home, and we’ll see if he needs any medical attention. If he does, I’ll get a roommate to bring him out to a hospital, my hair attracts too much attention,’ Yuta told him, fiddling with a section of scarlet hair. 

‘I can see that. We can really stay with you? And we don’t need to pay? Because we have no money.  _ Seriously.  _ I was turned out of my family at eight and he’s been homeless his whole life, I don’t know how he survived the first months, but my point is if you’re expecting rent then we can’t pay it.’ Chenle explained. 

Yuta smiled at them again. ‘Oh, don’t worry, you don’t need to pay rent. We don’t use homeless kids as profit, that’s just rude. The only thing I need you to know is that we live in a warehouse, there’s quite a few people already, and most of them have magical powers. I believe that is all you need to know, so if you’re not wanting to move in I’ll completely understand. I just find that our warehouse is certainly much better than sleeping out on the streets.’ 

Chenle was shocked. ‘No rent? Really?’ 

‘Nope. No rent,’ Yuta confirmed. ‘Food and water also provided.’

‘Then it’s totally a deal. Where is it?’ Chenle said, excited. 

‘It’s in the prairie, quite far from here. I hope you’re okay with that.’ Yuta said, apologetic. 

‘As long as there’s a roof above my head, I’m fine with anything.’ Chenle said happily. He would finally have a  _ home _ , a  _ proper  _ home. Not one like in the slums. The life they led there was filled with optimism, the people there surprisingly happy. That home never quite felt like  _ home _ , though. Indeed it was four walls and a roof, but it was made of cheap boards, corrugated iron sheets, tarp and the occasional brick lining on the floor, which was also mainly dirt. 

Yuta carried Jisung along, saying that a little weak boy that likely had not eaten a full meal in weeks should not be carrying an entire person. 

Chenle had walked a lot in the past few hours and didn’t feel like carrying Jisung, who admittedly was not the lightest and Chenle lacked muscle. 

After the fields of suburbia finally thinned and the road neatly cut off with a concrete curb, Chenle saw a massive expanse of healthy grass, one huge tree visible, and a gray warehouse among the gray mountains if one squinted. It looked _so far_. 

**Author's Note:**

> soo is my new writing style annoying? I'm experimenting. I'm giving different writing styles to the different stories. Tell me if you hate it!


End file.
